One moment, everything’s fine. The next, boom. There it is, sprouted from the ground. Maybe it appears on an empty lot in the neighborhood, or on the razed site of a treasured eatery that just closed its doors after 30 years. The structure is sleek, alien — a simple gray tower, usually between four and seven stories tall, its cold minimalism belied by an inexplicable design choice that suggests its developer — you might call him Chad, Brad, Thad or Trevor — is the kind of guy who opens enough Vineyard Vines’ promotional emails to have them appear in his...